Long Essentials Poems

Long Essentials Poems. Below are the most popular long Essentials by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Essentials poems by poem length and keyword.


No Longer the Motherless Daughter

Today’s the day they bury the woman who birthed me.
Not my mother.
There is no sadness in my thoughts.
No tugging at the heart.
The tender bond between a mother and daughter we did not share.
She was merely a woman in the world of billions who chose life over abortion only to give me torment and agony during the life we breathed in air together.
I will not miss her.  I will not cry over her.  I will not give credit to her.
This woman never loved me.  Never consoled me.  Never gave me the warm hugs a little girl needs to have.  Never kissed my forehead in loving affection.  Or told me I was beautiful inside and out.
She never encouraged my dreams, my goals, my aspirations.
She never instilled confidence that every little girl needs to survive in this cruel world.
She never taught me the essentials of being a woman as I emerged into one.
She never said, “I love you” gently into my ears.
She didn’t protect me from the devil, who night after night, raped and tortured me.
I was the enemy.  The one who invaded her sacred vow to my father.  The other woman I will always be.  Not the daughter she was blessed with.
I clawed my way out of the hole she so viciously threw me down in.  I let go of the victim and embraced the survivor.
She can never hurt me again.  Never pour salt in the wound.  Never hurt my daughter as she wounded me.
Somehow I was given the grace to shower my daughter with love and affection.  I pour my love all over her.  I console her when she is sad.  I embrace her with hugs.  I kiss her forehead with loving affection.  I tell her how brilliant and beautiful she is inside and out.
I encourage her dreams and goals in life and push her towards her aspirations.
I have made sure she has confidence that will get her through challenges in her life.
I have taught her how blessed she is to be the young, emerging woman she is becoming.  I have taught her to embrace her body, her mind, her soul.
I tell her every day how much I love and adore her and how much I am blessed she is mine to keep.
I protect her.  But also allow her to fall so she can learn to pick herself up.
I let her know she is my everything and my life with her is an adventure.
I am blessed beyond all treasures.
I am nothing like the woman who birthed me.  We only share DNA.
I will forever be a motherless daughter.  But I will not be a daughterless mother.
Form:


IRONIC EXISTENCE

ronic – isn’t it…?
The very essentials we need to survive
Are the same essentials that endanger and destroy us!
The very same people we love
Are the same loved ones we hurt or hurt us –
The very same life occurrences and events
That cause us to smile and laugh
Are the same occurrences and events that cause tears and humiliation!

Ironic – isn’t t…?
The same life we cherish and deem of priceless worth
And we hold fast to never foresee its end
Is the same life we mis-care for and waste
Toss aside and risk and gamble away
As if its value were less than a penny worth!

Ironic – isn’t it….?
The same sunlight that produces energy and cheerfulness
Is the same sunlight that burns us with its UV Rays!
The same smile that deems us cheerful and beautifully radiant
Is the same smile that label us “fools” to our predators!

The same hand that extends to help and rescue
Is the same hand we use to strike and knock each other down.
The same eyes we use to captivate beauty all around us,
Ae the same eyes that covet our neighbor’s possessions!

Ironic – isn’t it…?
A friend can be your worst enemy
While one’s enemy could have resulted to be your closest friend.
A friend lies to another – even for mercy’s sake
But, an enemy holds NO reservations or presumptions!
If an enemy tells NOT the truth
At the very least he shares his opinion and his thoughts
With no presumptions or reserves!

Ironic – isn’t it…?
The very dust we are drawn from
is the same dust we return upon death.
Ashes to ashes – dust to dust
The conclusive summary of a man’s journey
Is that a man’s life is but a mere reflection – a flash –
Of how his life PRIMARILY began!
“From birth to earth
From womb to tomb”
(More than just a West Side Slogan)
Connoting that life and death are bound like brothers
When often perceived as oppositional rival enemies.
Life calls for a celebration
While death yearns for acceptance
Not rejection!

Ironic  isn’t it…?
Death’s announcement bares no good news!
We run from death and fight against it
Even when we know we stand NO CHANCE to defeat it
But only to surrender ourselves to it as we stand POWERLESS against it,
For death cannot be cheated nor tricked
Bribed nor negotiated
Death bears nothing to offer but death itself:
An infinite eternal flat-line with no further response
On any end!

Modern Beatitudes

The Life we now live seems but a deceitful drain
Rules abound that keep us all in chains
When will our saviour show us 
We are in his favour

Blessed are the rich for they can afford the price rises
Essentials are so far out of reach for us already on our knees
We constantly pray
For what we gravely need

Blessed are the police for they can do as they please
They trample us in their lustful hate of society
Despite claiming to be our big brother

Blessed are the artful for they will dodge anything
And pay an unfair share of taxes
By buying government policy

Blessed are the bankers for they have ruined the day
Lending to us who could not control our spending
But now have to face reality

Blessed are the politicians for they always know what not to say
And lie at election time so convincingly
That we foolishly believe their comedy

Blessed are the immigrants 
For they at first appear foolhardy
Working long hours for less money
Till they realise they have rights like everybody

Blessed are the celebrities 
For they have distracted us well 
From the day to day hell in which we dwell

Blessed are the peaceful for they are useful after a riot
And can calm some but only for a short while
Till the government causes a decline in the economy

Blessed are the rioters for they know the value of greed
And covet an unpaid for flat screen TV
That was too overpriced if bought legitimately

Blessed are the gangs for they rule the streets
And act like feral cats
Till they end up six feet under

Blessed are the silly for they believe the news
And have a forgetful countenance
And  will always blame somebody 

Blessed are the over-spender
Who keep the internet in boom
Even though it’s unaffordable credit card spending
That will cause future misery

Blessed are the middle classes for they take all the school places
And the jobs and all the cream
And anything they can carry

Blessed are the reporters
For they know how to fan the flames of discontent
With their distilled forgetful hate 
That shows gross prejudices

Blessed are the simple folks who the world passes by so quickly
And who seem so unfairly happy
Long may they remain cloaked in insanity

And finally blessed are the people for they will rise up eventually
Another day
When despair can’t be held at bay

Everything Aches

'Everything Aches' 
 
Oh my arms do ache as I write down this prose  
Most days it feels like the pain goes all the way to my toes 
Bring me back lazy days lying in the sun 
Or the age when being flexible meant so much more fun 
 
Living with aches and strains and all things stretchy 
Remembering a day without pain seems so sketchy 
From my head, to my ankles, hips and back in between 
They say it would help if I could be more 'lean' 
But extra movement above the essentials feels unfair 
It even kills me each morning just to blow dry my hair 
 
So please understand how hard it can be every day 
When all I want to do is stay in my bed and lay 
I know you may find it hard to understand 
That even the slightest pain in the knuckles, the hand 
Can be overbearing, and so unforgiving 
But still have to work, still make a living 
 
If only you knew how hard most days it becomes 
Just to text and email, how much it strains ones thumbs 
Childbirth may have been so much faster and slicker 
But ageing of the pelvis and hips comes much quicker 
My pelvic floor and backside have certainly seen better days 
My moaning and groaning you must hope is a faze 
 
Shoulders forever, feeling so strained 
My legs constantly looking blue veined 
Cramps in my arches, IBS in my tummy 
Hereditary illness, blame my flexible mummy 
Bunions will scream, Bulging discs take my power 
It even pains me just to stand in the shower 
Tired and sleepy I need to relax 
Even those days that I rest to the max 
 
So just bring me your patience, comfort, understanding 
Even when you hear my joints creak more than the landing 
You know it's me, 'crackling' just walking downstairs 
The lack of sleep again bringing nightmares 
Thank you for listening, for just being here 
Not having you close to comfort is my biggest fear 
 
I know I go on, my frustration and tears 
Must be hard work for so many years 
But knowing you're here to carry the weight of my head 
Even on the days it feels heavier than lead 
Gives me the strength to be strong, keep me moving 
Your love and support it just keeps on proving 
Thank you again for holding my hand and week wrist 
Even though my pain must never seem to cease to persist 
 
 
'Everything Aches' by Victoria Payne
Form: Rhyme

While Crawling Toward the Finish

He had been in a deep dream, searching for a lost puppy
When the clanging alarm startled him to reality
The clear images fading like a burning photograph
Then, a desperate sense of unrecoverable loss

Lying on a couch, the beacon clock, clicking his heartbeat
With no desire in facing the awaiting mundane day
His aching back, reminds him of a night of stooped typing
And his dry mouth, of the many vodka inspirations

Opening his eyes, the room is semi aglow with dawn
Turning, he meets the scrutinizing eyes of porcelain frogs
Sliding roughly to a difficult sitting arrangement
Reaching for a bottle of room temperature water

His tongue dampened, he leans back to remember the reason
Why did he need to be shaken from his unconscious state?
Work, yes, that essential means to maintain his existence
Would he be teaching high school mathematics, English, or science?

Rising to his feet and in route the coffee maker
Now noticing the radio playing in the milieu
Earthquake, fire, shootings, political scandal, and weather
The essentials for the complex human news equation

Leaning over a large bed, he kisses his sleeping wife
Patting the dog’s head, continuing to the master’s bath
Later, while adjusting his suspenders, his wife reminds
Lunch is in the refrigerator, don’t forget the trash

On the short commute, through a cold northwest drizzling rain
He evaluates his current role as middle aged
Spending each day killing time, while crawling toward the finish
In his castle of souvenirs and faded memories


Mowing an endless lawn and shoveling tons of compost
The whisper of worry in his ears, about debt and health
Watching his wife grow old and pets slowly age until death
He laughs, at what seems like, the pure senselessness of it all

During his day, he continues to ponder while teaching
Looking into the young faces of his eager students
They are filled with the exciting beginning of new lives
Far from comprehending the classic middle aged crisis

In the evening, within the walls of his cozy cave
The television news professing the Armageddon
His loving wife sleeping off dinner in her recliner
He freshens his drink and is silently thankful for her

© Copyrights G. Jones 2008
© Gary Jones  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Quatrain


While Crawling Toward the Finish

I had been in a deep dream, searching for a lost puppy
When the clanging alarm startled me to reality
The clear images fading like a burning photograph
Then, a desperate sense of unrecoverable loss

Lying on a couch, the beacon clock, clicking my heartbeat
With no desire in facing the awaiting mundane day
My aching back, reminds me of a night of stooped typing
And my dry mouth, of the many vodka inspirations

Opening my eyes, the room is semi aglow with dawn
Turning, I meet the scrutinizing eyes of porcelain frogs
Sliding roughly to a difficult sitting arrangement
Reaching for a bottle of room temperature water

My tongue dampened, I lean back to remember the reason
Why did I need to be shaken from my unconscious state?
Work, yes, that essential means to maintain my existence
Would I be teaching high school mathematics, English, or science?

Rising to my feet and in route the coffee maker
Now noticing the radio playing in the milieu
Earthquake, fire, shootings, political scandal, and weather
The essentials for the complex human news equation

Leaning over a large bed, I kiss my sleeping wife's brow
Patting the dog’s head, continuing to the master’s bath
Later, while adjusting my suspenders, my wife reminds
Lunch is in the refrigerator, don’t forget the trash

On the short commute, through a cold northwest drizzling rain
I evaluate my current role as middle aged
Spending each day killing time, while crawling toward the finish
In my castle of souvenirs and faded memories


Mowing an endless lawn and shoveling tons of compost
The whisper of worry in my ears, about debt and health
Watching my wife grow old and pets slowly age until death
I laugh, at what seems like, the pure senselessness of it all

During my day, I continue to ponder while teaching
Looking into the young faces of my eager students
They are filled with the exciting beginning of new lives
Far from comprehending the classic middle aged crisis

In the evening, within the walls of my cozy cave
The television news professing the Armageddon
My loving wife sleeping off dinner in her recliner
I freshen my drink and am silently thankful for her

© Copyrights G. Jones 2008
© Gary Jones  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Quatrain

My Love

My Love



I love you much, my love, therefore I beg you
Give me that which till today, nobody have asked you
Don’t puzzle, I hope, you’ll help me in this regard
Best beloved and well wishers have supplied essentials
Of lovers always if we turn back too pages of history

Don’t worry; I'm not hurting you demanding your life
Your assets, requires you much rather than to me
I don’t care darling what other guys evaluate upon my asking
Because I don’t see more valuable things than that 
Which can easily, you can offer me

Even it doesn't hold any cost just some dedications 
Which till today no one has dared to offer?
I love you heartily so I want to take stand in this regard
Projecting out as if in the hill some inscriptions in ridges
To draw the attraction of demonstrators 

Don’t afraid, I’m not wishing you to make you show piece
To others at you or my cost, you’re my every thing
Why should I believe you in that easy way?
Definitely my intuition invokes me from within
You will offer me that instinct for my pleasure

Cause, I've noticed in your bright appearance
Deliverance of love is in different mode
Your juvenile desiring to oblige somewhere in the custom
I believe, as we are reared in the same village
In the same brink of the river.

Many times we have rained with completely
Our cows and herds also could not differ them
Swollen brooklets have helped us to unite body
Catching in hand hugging you and adding your body with mine
While crossing you know we used to become one

You can guess your feeling would have crossed the height of Himalayas
To understand, what body wants to be done? 
Your drowned eyes and dropping down drops of water
Used to provoke effort

Beyond that down through the throat, running paths for drenched water
Was explicitly witness, the curved part would be seizing more for that
As a trunk of elephant’s those beautiful thighs
Used to give witnessing purity ascribe for judgement of love

Slowly, crossing plain, stepping towards hills and 
Demarcation of two grassy lanes, when used to welcome
To separate, I know my pinches would cleave you
With high breathe. My love, I love you, I confirmed my decision to you.

The Immigrant Song

I have a song to sing and it will tell you where I have been, in the shadows of the night the fear of hope break through daylight and destiny begins the journey without shoes. 

They left their homeland in search of a better life two of them walking hand in hand as destiny propel them to another land but they end up having to pay a bountiful price for their sacrifice. 

They become vagabond on the way hitchhikers and belly dancers and they kept going despite the outrageous feelings but they had one goal in mind and that was to reach America and experience the American dream. 

There was no visible sign of reaching but they kept pursuing their dreams, crossing barriers and left exposed to open dangers but courage kept them going. A bandit with scars in his face held them up at gun point and took away all that they have got, shortly after that mercenaries strip them of their shoes, leaving the bare essentials on their body but they continue to journey on.

With courage in their feet and faith in their hand they were determined to go along but, they fell on the wayside from hunger and dehydration. The heat scorched their behind but mercy came just on time. An old woman live in the nearby bushes came with a jug of water and pour it over them. They were still alive and could walk half a mile to the old woman’s house. She gave them something to eat and let them rest for three days and when they were strong again they continued the journey.

They cross-country in the bushes chewing grass and feeding on wild peaches, climbing mountains and jumping from rocks with a touch of sentiment bundle in their backs and at nights when it gets cold they make a fire and have scrambled bird eggs and lizard legs for supper. Thorn and thistles pierce their knees and barbed wire sinks deep in their flesh when they try to jump the fence. 

They kept humming the immigrant song in their head as they reflect on the dead that did not make it, and there is still no sight of America. They were determined to get there for they have been travelling for more than a year. Their bodies are weak but their spirits are strong as they journey on the  painful path to reach America.
Form: Narrative

The Enjoyment

on his deathbed
he stares up at the ceiling---
a stale, supposedly calming
light blue, basks down upon
his now disease ridden body &
with all the tubes pumping
painkillers & poisons into him,
he’s finally fallen into submission,
giving up the last remnants of
resistance to the belief that the
doctor’s have been right all along &
that this thing is a final determinant---
this thing is going to be what 
does him in,
probably much sooner than he had
anticipated.

for him, there will be no more trips 
home, for him, no faces of family or
friends will be seen---unless they come
to visit of their own accord,
rather, these are the pondering hours,
possibly days,
in which even the gentle clicks & beeps
of the machines beside him
send his fuzzy mind into a series of
stream of consciousness memory waves
which connect pieces of his life
that he could have swore he had forgotten
up until now.

each one is burnt on the wall inside his
skull, each one comes up like brail neath’
the fingers---translating the minute details
of the rising glaring images appearing in 
his barely awake state, the whole while 
reminding him of the eons which seemed
to stretch themselves out into the years
that now have been rolled up into a bundle
of fleeting, flashing, seconds.

while not all the memories are positive,
as the darkness still creeps in, the fact
remains that an overall peace takes hold
convincing him concretely that there is
no more reason at all whatsoever to 
dwell on those places in his head, those
nether regions which brought anguish in
the past & dragged on throughout his 
life, bringing up new pain like the enduring
side-effects of a drug---instead, now, the
calming blue above begins to morph into
a gorgeous lake, one which he went fishing 
with his father up in the Adirondacks, 
when the green canoe was filled with 
the essentials of the day (the bait, cokes,
sandwiches & of course, Lay’s sour cream &
onion potato chips) & time seemed to stop
completely, whilst the two of them shared
an afternoon coasting along the quiet waters
of a lake which they solely occupied, taking
turns rowing & casting out in hopes of a
big return.

Penile Implant

being treated for fructose spasms
during one of the last movies on Earth
after the great Enema of 2012
when the heaters were on high
the authorities were called in
but his claims were all backed up
by the logic of chimes and daggers
creatures of comfort unite
you have nothing to lose but
your milk mouth and baby spoon
I went chatty and personal
diving from couch to chair
on a sponge mop broomstick
the room remained a mess 
but the leaps were longer
what but imagination is boundless
so he stamped and splashed singing
through the sewers of ideology
and carnival freaks with wings
made all my dynamos hum again
thanks to the exponential growth rate
of an adequate knowledge base
but then contemplating death
can make you crazy enough
to assassinate your biology instructor
and succumb to the lure of bland abjection
and an archaic tidal wave of pessimism 
and the hedonist's morphological pedigree
a prized quality among the really sage
and their many colored appendages 
we all know more than we let on 
it's a conspiracy of noise and silence
attained through bribery and deceit
where substitutions screech and skid
where sugar cane machetes dance in the rain
and the Moon weeps with a broken heart
made me write on her blackboard 100 times
cognition is not possession
until his soul jumped out his eyeballs
caught trafficking in non-essentials
with its lures and scuffles
but then it is a nasty game
played by hungry cartoon caricatures
tricking children out of their food
where every day and night is Halloween
until the euphoric chameleons
in a herpes garden of delight
of decadence infantilism and sleep
whistle through their nose hairs
beauty is tenuous who is to protect her
awaken her choirs bloom her lilacs 
and rainbow tresses and panting mamaries and
oh dear impale me dead where was I
the suction had his mind in a spin
with each gust of wind his forehead
began its evocative dans mort
don't try this at home kids
just kidding its OK to pantomime
ancient actors before their campfire
as you can well imagine

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